By Sarah

In honor of THE SLEEPING BEAUTY PROPOSAL's release this week, I thought I'd share a personal story that inspired the book: my three years with the Secret Jerk. Please feel free to enlighten us with your own experiences since it's a rare woman indeed who can get past twenty five without encountering one of these dingalings.

A Secret Jerk is a man who looks like Prince Charming on the outside and is little more than a snake charmer on the inside. This is Hugh, the boyfriend of my protagonist, Genie Michaels, who fakes her engagement when, after four years of a relationship, he suddenly proposes on national television to a woman he's been dating on the side, his "soul mate" with whom he is madly in love.

Like Hugh, my Secret Jerk was equally polished and academic. He was ten years older than I, then a mere twenty three, and I was dazzled by all his affectations. (Later I would realize why he dated a woman ten years his younger, but back then I was too naive to know about such concepts as Adult Male Inferiority Complex.)

My Secret Jerk wore lots of tweed, listened to Theolnious Monk and - though chronically unemployed - pretended he was superior to me, the gainfully employed, because he was pursuing a PhD whereas I held a useless B.A.

He also boiled coffee the French way, owned a well-seasoned omelet pan that, God forbid, he never washed, waxed nostalgically about the Sixties and drove old BMWs he worked on himself. His floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were loaded with every wanker male author, from Freud to Mailer to Cheever, plusthe hippie version of the Joy of Sex. On his walls hung Chagal prints, along with several pictures of his ex girlfriend, the professional ballerina, her legs split suggestively.

See? That's what make them Secret Jerks.They look so good to the general public, so polite and erudite and well read, and yet they display photos of their ex girlfriends splayed like Miss September.

Now, had I been older and wiser, I would have taken one look at the skinny ballerina, not to mention the French press and the Cheever and the hippie Joy of Sex and the oodles of brown leather, and headed for the door. But, like I said, I was twenty three and to me this man was unadulterated sophistication. So sophisticated was he, in fact, that I came off as tres pedestrian when I burst into tears having discovered a pair of black silk lace underwear (not mine, natch) between his sheets.

He never said he was committed to me, he explained. What did I want anyway? Marriage? Surely, I couldn't be serious.

He and his black-lace-panty-twinkie finally broke up when I seared off my corneas and called him in desperation from the emergency room. Apparently, the two of them were supposed to go out that night (cult film noir) and I ruined their night of black turtleneckfestivities by temporarily going blind. But she wasn't the first woman he cheated on me with and she certainly wasn't the last. My clearest memory is of him taking phonecalls in the bedroom and then scowling when I had the audacity to ask who "she" was.

The basic problem with me, he said, was actually him: he was not that sexually attracted to me. Sure, I was fun and intelligent and made him laugh. (And I paid for EVERYTHING.) But I did not have that certain....whatever it was, it was French. Like his coffee maker. And his ballerina.

The thing is, no one suspected this sliminess about my Secret Jerk. Everyone thought of him as intelligent and ethical, a real charmer. Yet, when I stop to think about how many times he surprised me with gifts or love trinkets. (Once he bought me a ceramic plate with a scorpion etched at the bottom.) Or how he insisted I go through psychotherapy before even considering whether to commit. (I did and cried non-stop for $210 hours' worth). I am baffled as to why I even stuck it out a month, let alone thirty six.

We finally broke up a year after I moved to Cleveland when we had this discussion: Would you stay committed if I became a quadriplegic?

Yes, it was one of those ridiculously stupid conversations only people with too much time on their hands  have, but it fast turned into a heated one. I said that of course I'd stay married to him no matter what his condition. He said he would be within his ethical rights to leave me and I should understand. Had I been closer than the 400 miles that separated us, I would have gladly made him a quadriplegic to test his theory.

The next day, I called up and broke it off. It was hard to do. It was hard like giving up cigarettes is hard (six months since I last sneaked one, by the way.) You know they're killing you, but you're so addicted, envisioning a life without them seems impossible. A week later he called me up and proposed marriage.

I said, "Surely, you can't be serious."

And that was the end of three years of pain and self mortification, all of which taught me what NOT to look for in a man. When I met Charlie shortly thereafter he was everything the Secret Jerk was not. Plus, he had a job and knew how to hold a hammer. There were other BIG differences, too, but considering this is a family forum (as if!) better not to go into detail.

God, that felt good to write. Such a relief!

To ex boyfriends and Secret Jerks. May they give us a lifetime of inspiration!

Okay...now who's yours?

Sarah

Comments

[Josh]

I don't have one, and I never was one. Maybe a jerk, but never a Secret one.

But here's a sobering thought: it could have been worse; it could have been Jim McGreevey.

[michele martinez]

Ooh, yeah, Sarah, tell the Jim McGreevey story again. Pleeze! Just think, you could be the one shopping the Mrs. Gay American book. (Although I hear her sales are bad -- she's suing him for interference.)

Great post. Reading it, I'm relieved I've grown up enough that my secret jerks are in the past and that I'm never a secret jerk myself any more. (Women are certainly capable of duplicity.) It's better to walk the straight and narrow path and have peace of mind -- hallelujah.

[Nancy Martin]

I'm so pleased to hear Mrs. McGreevy has developed enough spine to sue the jerk. Because he's got to be #2 in all of Jerkdom. I'm thinking maybe Sarah dated #1.

But it's all fodder, right, Sarah??

[Kerry, the Martial Tart]

My Secret Jerk was really only a Secret to me; in retrospect, I figured out that everyone but me had him pretty well pegged. He was The Singer who got all the leads in all the big musicals, sang all the solos with the best choirs, and had charisma coming out his pores (in fairness, he has a truly magnificent set of pipes and inherited musicality from both sides of his family; his charisma was even noted by my Very Dear Friend who served the subpoena in our no-fault divorce).

He was so special that I was unbearably flattered to be the object of his affections and willing to change everything and anything about myself (except my name when we got married) to suit him. I dropped out of college for a year to support him; I catered to his "artistic temperament"; I excused every behavior. Hell, I even married the guy. I don't really know how or why I came to my senses, but I thank the heavens I finally did. It wasn't until I was pregnant with my daughter and started having nightmares that I fully realized the extent to which I had been involved in an abusive relationship.

I wish I could say that I got it right the second time (if you count the rebound I didn't marry), but I didn't. Nor the third (the rebound from the rebound, whom I did marry). But all three of them taught me what I needed to know -- number 4 is the love of my life, my best friend, and my true partner.

I try very, very hard to overcome my own inner Secret Jerk. I like to think I'm getting better one day at a time :)

[SarahS]

I know...it's our own Inner Secret Jerk that's the scariest, right? And, yes, there are women, backstabbing women, out there who qualify for Super Secret Jerk status....

Right, Nancy. As Nora Ephron's mother used to say, "It's all copy."

[SarahS]

Also, as for the McGreeveys - really, who cares. Who would care enough to plunk down $20 to read about two middle-aged suburban Jerseyites who did know/should have known that one of them was gay? I can't think of anything that would bore me more.

BTW - Not an uncommon story. The rest stops in Jersey were famous for "respectable businessmen" stopping by to "pause" on their way from work before going home to the wives and kids. Every once in a while, the cops would flush out all the prostitutes (male) waiting in the woods to service them.

[William Simon]

Michele, thank you for acknowledging that the Fairer Sex can be just as bad. "Secret Jerk" is not the phrase I use when I recall the single most destructive relationship I ever had, but, as Sarah said, this is a family blog and one must be careful in phraesology.

On the other hand, I can remember moments when I was a Jerk, not bothering to be Secret about it. Thank heavens we eventually grow up.

The Straight and Narrow can be very confining; very confining indeed. But it sure beats the alternative....

[JanetLynn]

Sarah, great blog!

"Searing off your corneas"?

[Joyce Tremel]

I must be extremely lucky. I never really dated until I met my husband. We got married at 23 and are still happily married 27 years later.

[Harley]

You know, there is just no good reason for an unwashed omelette pan, is there?

My secret jerk, alas, was my very first. Also 10 years older. During my summer theatre job in Nowhere, Kentucky, miles from home. I had never been in love before, so this was it. I was like whatsername--Liesl, I think-- in THE SOUND OF MUSIC. 18, going on 6. He, two weeks into Our Brilliant Affair, told me I'd have to move my stuff out of his apartment, because his "real" girlfriend was coming to visit him for the last two weeks of the season. Silly me--I thought I was his "real" girlfriend.

I did a really subversive thing: made friends with his real girlfriend, who'd already guessed about me. She left him.

And I gained 15 pounds.

The End.

[Amy]

I, too, had a secret jerk, but like Kerry, it was only a secret to me. EVERYONE knew what a jerk he was except me, and no one felt the need to tell me about his nefarious activities until after I left him. I had the good sense, during my bridal shower, to realize that he was NOT The One, and left him about an hour later. THEN friends and family came forward with the ugly truths: cheating, lying, and general snobbery.

And that's what happens when you get engaged at 19 years old. Many, many years later, I saw him at a distance with his wife/girlfriend/whatever, and I just though, "Gee, wonder if she knows?"

[Rita Scott]

Alot of these jerks now hang out on myspace.
Most of them over 50 put up their church pix, in suit & tie, in front of a bookcase and they all look like creepy undertakers!
What they think is a romantic message sets my BS detector to beeping and I thank Bill Gates for inventing the delete button!

[Maryann]

My Secret Jerk was also my first love...maybe my first tip off should have been his love of English Leather (less is more, believe me) and his decision to smoke a pipe at the ripe old age of 18. I like pipes, and my husband smokes and occasional one, but this was almost comical. We were definitely exclusive (pinned and discussing marriage while he went to law school) thru two years of college (even though we were in different parts of the state), until my younger sister told me he'd been going out with a classmate of hers (whose dad just happened to be a high powered attorney). He explained to me that he felt the need to 'date' other people, and I could do the same even though we were committed. I threw his pin at him, although we didn't 'officially' break up until after I'd taken him at his word and met my future husband. Wanted to tell him face to face but made the mistake of showing a mutual friend 'the ring'. She blabbed. I got a very formal congratulations note from him. Six years later he married the daughter of one of the partners in the law firm that hired him after he passed the bar.
I probably should have known there was a problem when he told me he was voting for Goldwater and intended to someday be President of the United State. :o)
BTW,Chuck and I celebrated our 40th this past Sunday.

[Kathy Reschini Sweeney]

Sarah - what a cool thing to do - letting us in on the truth behind the new book.

I wonder if the Secret Jerk will recognize himself?

My first husband was the ultimate secret - and jerk is too nice a word. I found out after I left him that his friends and family knew all about his secrets, but thought I was "strong enough to change him" so they kept quiet. Nice. I should have had them all brought up on accessory charges.

I think people owe it to the rest of the population to bring these jerks out into the open. Maybe tattoos, like they did on one of the Soaps, or a sign in the yard.

Hmmmm.

[Cate]

Mine was a football player (quarterback, of course!) who was handsome, polite, and even a little cultured (we went to a liberal arts college). He was terrific on paper. In real life, he wanted me to change just about everything about myself and do his homework for him. It didn't last long. In fact, Mr. Good On Paper actually dumped me in the middle of a date. He better-dealed me at a roller rink and left me stranded.

Which led to my theory that into every woman's life, one football player must fall.

[Debby]

As I think back on the guys that I have dated, I come to realize that not only do I seem to be a 'secret-jerk' magnet, but that they all have similarities with my dad...who is...a secret jerk himself.

It all goes back to my senior prom when my date spent about 80% of the time trying to get one of my friends to dump her date for one of his friends. Huh? Now is NOT the time! I dumped him even quicker.

Then there was the big strong steel worker who lived in my apt complex, who took me places....just not when he transferred to another state! And then broke up with me. Jerk.

Dad, the jerk, is the life of the party. All sweet and friendly to everybody until everybody leaves...then he criticizes, argues, demeans, and practices bizarre forms of revisionist history whenever he feels like bringing up issues from the past like my mom divorcing him (his version...she met a rich guy. Her version/truth...dad was sleeping around and had hooked up with the mother of his 1st child).

Current guy is a sweetie. He has issues due to his 1st marriage. He is just making me wait...and wait...and wait.

[SusanS]

I'm afraid I've had two secret jerks...and married them both. How unbelieveably gullible does that make me? #1 was a Navy pilot and wanted to change everything about me, date lots of women while he was away and sent me flowers everytime he scored (found out about that later). He didn't even mind when his immediate senior officer made a serious proposition to me at a party - whatever it takes to get a good review, right? #2 was a cop (hmmm... maybe it was a uniform thing with me)and didn't want to change anything about me, but didn't want me interfering in his life either. He got engaged to a woman who worked at the same place I did. Yeah, we all thought it was so cool Christy finally got engaged . . .until I found out it was to MY husband. The gods of crossed women got even for me, however. Neiter one is leading a very happy life now, so I am told. And me? I finally found a guy who recognises a commitment when he sees one, mows the lawn, fixes my computer when it breaks and considers us a team. . . not to mention the other good stuff.

[michele martinez]

Here's a question -- have you ever exposed somebody else's secret jerk, and if so, what were the consequences? I once told a friend of mine that I saw the guy she was about to marry kissing another woman in the park. It ruined our friendship. She was convinced I was trying to torpedo their relationship because I didn't like him. (It's true I didn't like him, but it's also true that he was kissing the woman). She married him and the last I heard, they were still married. Whaddayagonnado?

[William Simon]

One thing I've learned the hard way is to NOT get involved in that particular scenario. Let's face it; you can have video with sound of The Jerk (male or female) having sex with a third party, and the person who is head over heels in love is going to stand there and loudly proclaim it's a fake, it's not real, and you become the Bad Guy for trying to point this out.

What amuses me is when The Jerk is female, and even though other men are aware of what she did to you, their attitude is "She won't do that to ME."

All you can do is sit back and laugh at that point.

[Rebecca the Bookseller]

Oh - good one, Michele.

I lost a friend because I was the one who told her that her fiance was selling coke out of HER brand new car (he was "between jobs", but always had cash...)

They ended up married but very, very unhappy.

Our friendship did not survive it. I feel bad, but not bad enough to put my life at risk by hanging out with drug dealers.

William - don't kid yourself. Women do the same thing. "Oh, but it's DIFFERENT with me." Sure it is, ya moron. Much as we'd like to think otherwise, you guys do not have an exclusive on stupid.

[ramona]

Mine tracked me down after 20+ years, via this blog, and was all like, "Surprise! How are ya? Let's catch up!" Like I'd stopped hating him after a mere two decades. He never did know a thing about women.

[SusanCo]

Mine was during the Vietnam War era. He was tall, skinny,and the love of my life. He was in the Army and was marching off to war. I was a loner, quiet, abused teenager, who was thrilled to finally having someone to call her own.He marched off, but not before asking me to marry him. I wrote faithfully,dreaming of the day we would wed.I waited for two years for him to come home, while taking his mother shopping, being a good listener to his little sisters trouble. Then the night he came home, I went with them to the airport to pick him up. They swarmed him as he came out the gate while leaving me stuck behind the door.We all piled into the car and I was put in the rear between his smelly uncle and I think a cousin, with roaming hands. This really should have told me something. But, NO ,Susan still had little rosebuds circling her head and romance in her heart. Party happened and finally we were alone. He says " Listen Little Bit I really liked getting the letters and all the packages, but my old girlfriend was writing me too." Sorry but we have decided to get married and she will be here in a minute, so if you would leave that would be nice." I took the engagement ring off, and left out not saying a word. I walked home ( about three miles) in what else but pouring rain and never looked back, until today when I read the blog. Oh the angst of being a teenager and that first love! SusanCo

[William Simon]

Rebecca said: Much as we'd like to think otherwise, you guys do not have an exclusive on stupid.

All I can think of right now is everyone's favorite Bad Boy Spike, and his ultimate summation:

"I know what I need to do now, what I should have done before. I need to find Dru, kidnap her, tie her to a chair, and torture her until she loves me again.... (pause, glance at Buffy and Angel) "You know....love's a funny thing...."

[SarahS]

Yeah, it's almost not worth it telling the other person. The UPS guy who saw my friend's husband's pickup truck in the driveway of another woman every afternoon made the mistake of telling my friend. (Who was also a friend of his...) They haven't spoken since.

Anyway - they always know. They just don't want to admit the truth, right?

Been there!

[SarahS]

I LOVE Spike!

SusanCo - That is the saddest story. Right down to the pouring rain.

Hello Nicholas Sparks!